Page 77 of Lord Hartwell’s Refuge

Henry threw the ball for Apollo rather harder than necessary. The big dog took off with a bark this time, and Athena raised her head, obviously tempted to correct her mate for his breach in etiquette.

“Edward isn’t home anymore, he’s at school with his friends. Daphne is always doing things with Seraphina and Pearl, to get ready for her great big ball. Leopold is old. Charles is—you’re busy, you’re not home very much.” Henry did not look at her as his tone quieted. “And you’re here.”

Oh. Tamsin’s chest tightened. She had known Henry would miss her. She had not really understood what her leaving had done to the shape of his world; perhaps because she had not wanted to feel the associated guilt which now stole into her heart for abandoning him.

Seraphina and Pearl had their own concerns, both of them out and occupied with society. Daphne was rapidly following them, consumed by gowns and the approaching prospect of her own debut, with two sisters to support her. Edward was away enjoying school. Daisy and George had one another. Tamsin had married, leaving the household and not making a great effort to visit as of yet.

She had been one of the few people at Sycamore Lodge who noticed when the twins shut Henry out. Who let him follow her from room to room when everyone else found his questions tiresome. Who knew when his complaints meant he was bored and when they meant he needed attention.

Without her, he had not simply lost his eldest sister from the house. He had lost the person most aware of his existence.

“Oh, Henry.” Her throat tightened.

He shrugged again, the violent little shrug of a child who had already said more than he intended. “At school there would be boys who are also almost-eight.”

“Yes,” Tamsin said, composing herself while Charles watched her, brow furrowed again.

Henry picked up the ball and simply handed it to Apollo rather than throwing it. The dog tilted his head to one side, but took it. “I could find friends there.”

“Yes,” she agreed again, folding her hands tighter in her lap.

“So I can go?”

No.

The answer rose immediately to Tamsin’s tongue, but she did not say it aloud. No. He was too young. He had not thought through what leaving home actually meant. Roman had employed an excellent governess for precisely this reason; sending an almost-eight-year-old away from home was hardly the obvious solution to his loneliness.

She wanted to say it all, but she kept her lips pressed together as she considered his list of reasons. She had wanted someone to listen to her, for years, in that household. No one ever had. She had told Roman that was why she should go to Henry and take care of the situation.

That meant listening now…and listening was not the same thing as deciding what was best before he had finished speaking. “Do you know that you must sleep there?”

Henry frowned. “At school?”

“Yes.”

“Like Edward?”

Tamsin smiled. “Exactly like Edward.”

He considered that for a moment. “Every night?”

“Yes. Usually,” she said lightly. “Edward does not come home very often, does he?”

His expression changed. “Oh.”

It was delicate, her next statement. “And you would not see Daisy and George every day, as you do now.”

That made his chin rise, rather stubbornly too. “I don’t care.”

“You might eventually,” she pointed out, though Henry looked doubtful. “You would not see Seraphina, Daphne, and Pearl, except when you came home for special occasions or holidays.” He shrugged, so she added, “Or Father and Mother.” His eyes widened just a touch at that. “Or me.”

That did it, apparently. He answered quickly, and with a touch of accusation. “You don’t even live there anymore!”

“No, but you are here right now, at my house.” Tamsin gestured to the room around her. “You are always welcome here, darling. I promise. If you were at school, you could not simply come to Hartwell House with Charles on any afternoon because you wanted to.”

The little boy had plainly not considered this. “What if I asked the headmaster?”

“You would have to remain at school. They have a lot of rules about visits home.”